The Heart of a Soldier: Rewritten
by vintagecowgirl101
Summary: Esther Fusillade has a rifle on her shoulder, a shared flask of Vat69 in her pocket, a pair of over sized boots on her feet and the Company of Easy at her side. Rewritten from two years ago. Please R&R!
1. Chapter 1

**The Heart of a Soldier: Rewritten**

**~Chapter 1: Radio~**

A petite figure leaned against the wallpapered drywall of a hallway. A shadow, owned by the figure, crept curiously around the end of the hall. A part of her didn't want to eavesdrop to listen to their harsh words, but she couldn't help herself.

She recalled to earlier that day as their argument continued. It was sweltering hot, so hot that sweat was running down the space between Esther's thin cotton sundress and the crease in her back. Little did she know one day that healthy crease would be replaced by the harsh bones of her vertebrae.

The Fussilade family's radio made of wood was sitting on the porch handle rail. When her father told the story of the heirloom radio, he would say that dust from the early Dustbowl days was still in the cogs. Esther's grandparents would sit around and listen to the reassuring words of President Roosevelt as they hoped the country would make a drastic change for the better. With this in her mind, she felt somewhat thankful for the lack of a breeze as it was much better than the horrific winds of the 1930's.

The heat was so intense on the Fussilade family homestead in Grand Island, Nebraska that the clothes Esther had washed were dry before she could even clasp a wooden pin over their seams. Perfidia, orchestrated by Glenn Miller was playing softly, and Esther thought of how horrible it would be to get her heart broken. The song, about an unfaithful relationship, made her thankful she didn't have one. But if it was up to her grandmother, she would be married with four kids like she was 'by the old age of 17'. Esther scoffed at the thought of bearing children, when she hadn't even courted a boy yet.

Finding a man to marry was a difficult feat at the time. Pearl Harbor had been attacked seven months earlier, so most of the men her age and above were shipped off to defend freedom. Days and weeks would pass by, and more gold stars would hang in the front room window of the houses in the small Nebraska town. Boys she went to grade school with, gone forever. Some were lost in Europe, others the Pacific theatre. She still remembered exactly where she was living and breathing when the radio broadcast announcing the ambush and the declaration of war began.

"We will not only defend ourselves to the uttermost, but we will make it very certain, that this form of treachery shall never again endanger us." She recalled the president's strong words during his speech the following day of the attack. The country was now submerged into a world

war.

A LIFE advertisement crackled to life on the FM radio, the classically voiced man spewing some glorified text about a group called the paratroopers. It was an all new method in warfare, men jumping from planes to ambush the enemy. It sounded impossible, ridiculous almost, but for some odd reason Esther was intrigued by the idea of actually 'flying.' So she paused her chore of drying the delicate clothing, and listened in intently.

"These men are paid 50 dollars more a month than the average infantryman. This is because they are the elite of the elite. Only the best soldiers can make it as a paratrooper. Visit your town's recruiter and join today!"

Esther's lips curled into a pleased smirk, "Hmm, 50 dollars extra a month? Sounds nice to me. Heck, maybe that would help Dixie get into a nice university."

But then, as she pinned the last sundress to the clothesline, she realized that something was very wrong with this idea. She was the wrong gender. A she and not a he. But with the crazy idea planted firmly in her brain, Esther was determined to become a bigger part of the war effort. To do something bigger than pouring black powder into bombs, and something more than just complying with the ration system. Esther wanted to be there, doing something she could see the effects of.

"Esther?" The small voice of her little sister, Dixie, cried out. An orange creamsicle was dripping down her small, pale wrist. Dixie was sort of a delicate child; never spent much time outside, but always inside with their mother. Esther was the one who worked hard with her father and soaked up his encyclopedia of information and advice. Her skin was dark and leathery, even in the early days of the summer.

"Dixie, those are expensive!" Esther ran towards her small sister, apron in hand to wipe away the liquid sugar. If she did leave to be a soldier, she was afraid Dixie wouldn't be able to take care of herself. "Hurry now, lick it up before it's all melted."

Quickly she clicked the worn knob on the radio and shut off the ending words of the LIFE advertisement. She patted her sister on the back and guided her into the swamp cooled house.

Esther was snapped back into reality by the loud sound of her father's beer bottle slamming against the oak table. She blinked hard to snuff out the hot tears threatening her eyes. Suddenly a pair of delicate arms with a severe lack of muscle, wrapped tightly around her hips. Dixie was too short, even at the age of 9, to hug her older sister's waist.

"What's going on?" Esther felt Dixie's lips whisper into the thin cotton of her dress, translated into the skin of her thigh. Of course it was confusing to this child, who's parent's never raised their voices in argument. A ping of guilt zapped Esther's heart, knowing that she shouldn't have even voiced her idea of becoming a paratrooper to her father, as they worked in the garden.

"I say if she wants to go, let her go!" Her father bellowed at her mother.

Her mother's shadow showed a shaking head in disagreement. "You only want her to go because she's the closest thing you've ever had to a son. And you want to be like all your friends and be proud you have a son fighting in the war."

She was right. Esther was the one who weeded the garden, and changed the oil in the old farm truck after changing out of her Sunday best. She was the one who went hunting with her father on Saturday afternoons in late October, and rowed the boat in the middle of spring when the fishing was at its prime.

Her father knew her mother was right too. "Fine then, I'll sign the papers. It only needs one signature anyway."

"You will _not _send my first baby into the war, Charles!" Her mother's voiced cracked with the threat of tears. Guilt and self remorse tugged at her heart. _I should have not even mentioned it. _

Dixie shook Esther, demanding her attention. She looked down at her sister with a worried glance. When she did, Esther's mass of hair flipped over her shoulder and tickled Dixie's lovable face. Dixie let out a small giggle, causing Esther's short finger to fly up to her lips, to hush the child in order to listen to her father's rebuttal.

But there wasn't a negation and finally they had stopped their yelling, and all that could be heard was her mother gasping for breath. Had they made some sort of decision?

The silence was broken before she could even appreciate it. "Esther!" Her father yelled with gritted teeth, followed by the sound of his beer being drained empty.

Esther timidly came out from the shadows to face her parents, with a small girl on her hip. Dixie clutched on her hair, eyes wide with reaction from the rare uprising.

"Dixie, go to your room."

Dixie looked up at Esther, surprised, as he was never cross with her.

"Now," his loud and powerful voice stung Dixie's innocents. Esther let Dixie down, and she scurried off to her room. Now with her safety gone, she swallowed hard and looked towards her seething father and her tear-stained mother.

Her mother brought an embroidered handkerchief to her damp eyes and sighed to begin her spiel. "I guess it's not really up to me. You've always been your father's child. The recruiter will tell you weather or not you can join, at this point it's my only hope I won't loose my baby." She began to wail again, and Esther no longer felt the fire in her chest about joining the Army.

"We'll get you in one way or another. I know some people," he father declared. Esther walked hastily towards her father and embraced him. He smelled like he always did at this time of night. Like a hint of sweat from the hard days work and the ale of choice that night.

"Thank you," she mumbled into his chest, not quite understanding what had just happened. She then went to her mother and took in the sweet smell of her blonde hair. The scent that comforted her as a small child would not be there in war. The thought of homesickness had never crossed her mind when that advertisement was on.

Dixie timidly shuffled into the kitchen, with her teddy bear clutched in her arms. Esther motioned her over and she perched on her hip once again, with spindly legs wrapped around her waist. The innocent child with bright doe eyes was still blind to what just happened.

**B.o.B.**

Lazy morning light poured through her lace curtains, falling on the pair of sisters. Dixie had decided to sleep with Esther that night. Esther didn't mind though, because Dixie's stream of questions put a stopper to her own.

Esther's bedroom door opened loudly, followed by the excited breathing of a man she recognized as her father. He was dressed in his letter carrier's uniform, a piece of paper clutched in his hand. It was shaking slightly, but his face was bright with the look of achievement.

"Esther!" He shook her even though she was wide awake already. "I know a guy who knows a guy, who knows the colonel of the 506th Parachute Infantry Regiment." The words meant absolutely nothing to Esther- yet. "And I made a few calls here and there, and made some _very _convincing speeches. They want you! They want to see how a woman could handle being a paratrooper. They'll take your picture and all that, slap that nice face of yours on some posters and get the women here swarming to the factories. You'll be a military experiment, of sorts."

Esther could hardly contain her excitement, and now understood why her father's hands were shaking, as now hers were too. All through life, they had always strived towards the same things together.

"One problem," he dramatically paused. "You have to wait two months until your 18th birthday in August. So, you'll be a little behind in training. But Colonel Sink doesn't want any more risks. A 17 year old male in the Army is breaking a rule, but a woman is crossing the line." He quickly looked at his wristwatch, "Shit, I'm 2 clicks late already. Got to go, my girls."

With a wave over his shoulder, her father left. Esther felt Dixie writher closer to her back, the sun glowing against her blonde hair even brighter now. She knew Dixie always took her time processing things, and Esther herself was having a difficult time understanding what had just been said and done.

"You're leaving me?"

Esther rolled over to look at Dixie. "I not leaving _you_, babe. I've got a big responsibility to take care of."

"If you hadn't heard that thing on the radio, you wouldn't have such a big res-res-bonsability." Dixie tried to sound angry, but her difficulty with the large word made it hard to take seriously. Esther hadn't realized that Dixie had heard the broadcast yesterday.

She brushed back the bed head hair against Dixie's clammy brow. "Nothing is set in stone yet, baby girl."

**And then Sink realizes that putting a woman in the Airborne was a bad idea and The End. Just kidding! Hey, at least this is a **_**little **_**better than my original first chapter where she is just suddenly at Camp Toccoa like it's no big deal. Imagination is appreciated. :)**

**So, rewritting- Some things will remain the same, but expect many new changes! No more Mary-Sue Esther, no more disrespect to the actual Easy Co. veterans and less historical inaccuracies. The early chapters I expect will change more than the later ones (because my goodness my writing was even worse then than it is now) **

**Write me a review and I'll love you forever! Just ask 'LovingBOBThePacific'. She left a review once and we've been best friends for three years now!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Wow! Thank you **_**XO93, Camilla, Allie, ChocAndSnow19, Paratrooper56 and cchickki **_**for the reviews! I hope I won't disappoint! Enjoy! Xoxo**

**~Chapter 2: White Sunshine~**

Two months had passed since Esther had heard the LIFE magazine's Airborne advertisement. Her 18th birthday was only yesterday. It wasn't much of a party though; the only one that was excited was her father. Her mother was practically bitter, her sister unable to hold back the tears. Esther now was questioning whether it was a good idea to take this on or not. The recruiter assured her the Airborne would take good care of her, but in the pit of her stomach she felt that when the war was waging on at full speed, they would forget about their 'poster child'.

As she blew out the row of melting homemade candles, made of beeswax from their homestead's hives, Esther wished for only one thing. _I wish to stay alive and come home_ _after the war is won_.

Now it was the morning of her departure for Georgia. "Camp Toccoa," her father informed her on the way home from where they went out to dinner the night before. Her mother pretended not to hear, staring out the window with a hard gaze, as if she didn't want to know where her daughter was going. Dixie rested, sleepy with the amount of crying she had done, with her head on Esther's lap. In the front bench seat of the family's station wagon, her father continued. "Sink's secretary says the only thing you've missed in training is the conditioning, meaning the running. They haven't started the jump training yet, so you'll be able to catch up easy, hun." Esther felt like he was trying to convince himself rather than her that she would excel at this.

Her chest thumped, thinking back to her high school weight lifting class. Esther was always one to be keeping up with the boys, being the only girl in the course. She could bench press her own weight, squat with a bar of 250 pounds and do as many set ups as her coach. But the running murdered her. Her lungs would burn, her temples would ache, the pain after running just a mile would demand to be felt. Now she worried she would be kicked out of the Airborne the moment she was ordered to run.

"You know I'm terrible with endurance, dad." She reminded him- as if he wasn't already aware.

He gripped the steering wheel a little tighter as they turned in their quarter of a mile gravel driveway. "They'll get you into shape and you'll be able to do it without a drop of sweat on your forehead."

Now it was really time to leave. No amount of preparation could help with saying goodbye to her family. Her mother had evolved past the stage of tears and now could not muster any words, but only looks of disgust directed towards her father and leaving the room when the LIFE advertisement would broadcast on the heirloom radio.

Her father was sitting impatiently in the running station wagon, drumming his calloused hands on the black steering wheel. There wasn't any luggage to load onto the top of the vehicle- she had already been ordered to not bring anything. Esther cut herself out of the family's annual church member photograph, and stuck it in her plain, round locket. It almost seemed grotesque to snip her face away, but all four of them could not fit in the space.

A long braid ran down her back as she stood on the front stoop of their home. For all she knew this could be the last time she would stand here. Her hair was the only quality she treasured about herself, vainly, perhaps. Esther had a habit of twirling her hair when she was nervous or deep in thought.

"They'll cut your beautiful hair off, you know. Chop the braid right off. Won't even make it even at the ends…" Her mother warned as she handed her a jug of hay slack. It was an old drink made with molasses and water that would quench your thirst, even on the most humid Nebraska days. Her mother kissed her warm, flushed cheek before embracing her first child. "I love you, Esther. Write often."

She returned the embrace and then patted her apron pocket, "I've brought a pad of paper and pencil in case they don't supply it. I'll write you guys, one way or another."

Dixie was wailing dramatically, convinced if she screamed enough her sister would no longer have to leave. She held on as tightly as her frail arms could muster around Esther's hips. She peeled her sister off her side, and squatted down to give her one more explaining speech.

"Baby sister, I'm going to be sending home so much money you can eat as many ice creams your stomach desires."

"I'd rather have you home than all the dolls, ice creams and dresses in the world." Dixie tried to gasp out between sobs.

Esther's heart pinged with sheer guilt. Nothing she could say would help ease her sister's confusion. She could only hope time would help relieve the pain.

Her father leaned over into the passenger seat and rolled down the window. "Dixie! Let your sister go! We've got a long drive to make!"

Now with tears fighting to escape her eyes, Esther gave one last hug to her sister, and stood to kiss her mother and take in the scent of her hair. Her mother lifted Dixie up and she squirmed to break free from her to chase Esther down. She sat down on the hot upholstery of the old car and took one last glace at the only house she had ever known. Now at the end of her driveway, she looked in the passenger side mirror to see their homestead for a final time. With a swollen throat, she quickly shut her eyes to stop the tears but could only see the image of Dixie running down the driveway. Though she had broken free from their mother, she was no match for the impatient speed her father was urging the car.

No words were spoken for the nearly two hours on the highway running along side the Mississippi River.

Now four hours into the ride, her father finally spoke. "Your sister will be fine, Esther. You'll be fine too. Just think about how proud you will be making everybody in Grand Island. You'll be a celebrity all around the country. You'll be in all the magazines and newspapers."

Esther, irritated, crossed her left leg over her right, turning away from him to look out the side window. "I'm not going for the fame, dad."

"When you see what's happening over there, wherever you go- Pacific or Europe- you'll understand why you are going."

The rest of the journey until Oklahoma, where they would stop for the night, was completely silent. The only sound was the wailing of the tires flying over the grooves in the highway, which eerily resembled Dixie's cries of despair.

Hotel's were expensive and not well kept up in this part of the country. People were too concerned with managing to survive to keep a hotel room clean. Some were without houses and simply lived in the motels. Others spent their nights in Airstream campers down by the river, where they could manage to fish for meals. The government was struggling enough before, and now when the war came, the struggles were neck deep. Most of the people Esther saw as she looked out the window in Oklahoma City were widow's who husbands had been killed in action, or men who had not been drafted yet. Perhaps Dixie would understand why the 50 dollars a month was so promising if she could see this. Dixie was so sheltered and unaware of the world on their 40 acre homestead in Nebraska. Not much made sense to her innocent mind, other than Sundays she went to church, Wednesdays she helped with the laundry, and she got three months off of grade school when summer came.

Esther's rest was uneasy that night- she stayed up thinking about what Camp Toccoa would bring her. What bothered her most as she listened to her father's peaceful slumber in the station wagon was that she didn't have a clue what the next year or two of her life would bring. She hated uncertainty even more than she hated ignorance.

The next half of the journey would be east bound and down towards Georgia. The closer to the Gulf of Mexico they got, the more red the soil got. The finer grains would escape through the seams of the door and collect under the window, where Esther would push it into small heaps to pass the time. Her father rarely exchanged words, albeit the times he would point out wildlife that they wouldn't normally see in Nebraska. It was odd and uncomfortable for them not to chat, and the tension that was normally absent only stressed her out further.

At last, a square sign emerged from the side of the highway, giving a simple 'Welcome to Georgia'. Camp Toccoa was in the far northwest corner of the state of Georgia, nearly on the state border, so she knew they were nearly there. Half of an hour later, rows and rows of peaks of khaki grew from the red soil and she knew her time in the presence of her father was dwindling down.

"Here we are," her father announced, quickly gesturing towards a sign stamped with military block letters 'Camp Toccoa' with a parachute symbol following.

**B.o.B.**

As they drove in further, they were stopped by the guards at the main entrance. Though she can barely hear over the sound of her heartbeat pounding in her ears, Esther thinks they say something about how they've 'been expecting the poster girl for the Airborne.'

The car rolls forward, with now worn down rubber tires loudly grinding against the gravel driveway. "Did you hear that, Es? They've been expecting us!"

She nods half heartedly in response, eyeing the formation of men that appear to be getting screamed at by an awkward looking man. _God, I hope he isn't my officer._

Now at the colonel's quarters, her father eagerly shifts the station wagon into park and gets out. An older man with hair that reveals his age and facial hair to match meets him on the steps. Esther legs were unresponsive, so she sat for a moment, watching the two men interact excitedly. Suddenly their conversation falls, and Esther's father gestures for her to get out, an almost annoyed expression on his face.

The distance from the car seat to the stoop seemed to roll in slow motion. The door handle slips out of her clammy hand twice, and she bumped her head on the top of door frame. _Already making a fool of myself_. She noted, her blood still pounding ferociously with nervousness, so intense she could feel the rapid pulse in her lips.

"Esther! How nice to meet you!" The decorated colonel with the kind face offered her a handshake before she had a chance to wipe the sweat from her palm. "I'm Colonel Sink, head of the 506th Parachute Infantry Regiment."

She nodded her head in response to his formal introduction, and then shot a nervous glance to her father. He gave her a reassuring smile then looked up to the towering Sink. "She's a bit nervous, Colonel." It was the same tone of voice her mother had used when Esther had visited her Aunt in California and took a passenger train. She warned the conductor it was her first time on a train, almost telling him to take care of her on the ride.

"Well, Miss Fusillade, your uniform and PT Gear is just inside on my desk. Easy Company is who you will be assigned with. They are the finest men in this camp."

Her father gave her back a gentle shove in the door before continuing the conversation with Sink. As she opened the door, she heard her father ask, "Will she be on the front lines?" And before she could close the wire encased with glass door, she heard the officer reply, "Absolutely."

Inside she found neat stacks of manila envelopes and papers strategically placed away from the flow of the small metal fan perched on the corner of Sink's desk. His secretary's desk was empty, making the low hum of the fan the only sound in the office. Esther located her pile of new clothes with a scrap of paper sitting atop that read 'Esther Fussilade'. As she bent forward to retrieve the pile of olive drab up, the fan blew on her face. For a moment she stood there and enjoyed the stream of cool air that diminished the beads of sweat on her neck and face.

The laughter of her father just outside the door snapped her back into the reality that she would soon have say goodbye to him, possibly forever. She suddenly felt like an ass for being so short with him on the car ride here.

She walked out with an armful to meet them once again. "Ah, you found them I see." Sink nodded to her full arms. "They will probably be a little large on you, miss. They are the smallest size we have, and the boots are size 9 men's. Sorry, but it's all we've got."

"It's okay," her voiced failed her, croaking, giving away her sheer anxiety. "Really, it's alright, sir."

"Good then," he gave a kind smile. "You and Charles can walk over there to Easy Company, and then you will start your training with the men. Lieutenant Sobel with get you caught up."

Her father and Sink shook hands and thanked each other, neither understanding who was sacrificing more. They walked a ways, a silent barrier between them. It felt odd and distant- the two were always so close back home. The stars and stripes waved proudly in the stale Georgia breeze, making Esther's chest ping.

Her father turned to her, pausing to say the last goodbye. He held her at arms length and dropped his head to catch her eyes. "Behave yourself. Set a good example. You're going to be closely watched." He said this as if she was to represent their name well. She hurriedly looked down at her neatly pressed uniform to avoid his gaze and saw her name sewn into the front. It read 'Fusillade', which meant a rapid discharge of firearms.

Her father was really proud of their last name. He had wanted to join the Marines back in the day, but he had terrible knees. The Marines wouldn't accept anybody with any medical flaws. Even if your teeth weren't perfect, you would be denied and sent back home. Esther knew the fact that her father couldn't serve always bothered him. It made him feel slightly guilty that he never served his country. Now that she thought about it, perhaps that is why he was so eager to send her off to war.

He then wrapped her in his arms, running one hand quickly down the braid at her back. He had only cried in front of her one other time. It was when she had made him a very personal father's day card, filled with her favorite things about him. But her father never released tears, but rather let out dry sobs that shook his body. Esther felt these empty sobs against her in the embrace, and realized how badly they would miss each other.

"Make me proud," he said finally, trying desperately to make it seem like his eyes were bothering him, not from emotion but from the Georgia dust.

"I love you, dad," she said plainly, very worried about the amount of emotion seen in his face. It was as if his eyes revealed he had accepted their now unknown fates.

"I love you two, my girl. Goodbye for now." He gave a weak smile and touched his calloused hand to her cheek quickly.

Then he turned to go, Esther could see from behind he wiped the back of his hand against each eye. He did not look back, and even when we put the car into reverse, shifted into drive and began driving away, he did not give her a second glance. Esther saw the definite glint of tears in the hot, white sunshine, streaming down his tanned cheeks.

She couldn't coax her legs to move, even though her heart told her to chase after him so she could go back home. Esther suddenly felt as confused as Dixie, and couldn't shake the childish urge to take off.

"You people are at the position of attention!" The awkward man's words barked, bringing her from her desire to run. He began to criticize everything about them. The list went on as he poked at their minute infractions, and he even bullied with their last names. A speech spewed from his bitter mouth, one that Esther would come to hate. 'Easy Company' flew from his jaws, and it was the only comforting thing she had heard all day. Easy Company- this was her company.

Esther stood at a distance, watching them carefully, but didn't pay much attention to what she assumed was Sobel, had to say. Holding her Army greens out in front of her, she realized that she needed to change soon. Some of the men would dare to move nothing but their eyes to look at her, questioning her presence.

"We're running Currahee!" He bellowed, the sound of a pleasure coursing through each word. From the looks of disgust from the men, she could tell all of this would be far from a pleasurable experience. She began to watch the men as they jogged into the barracks, but a man with dark hair had to retrieve his bayonet that had been chucked into the ground by Sobel. As he bent down to pick it up, he glanced at her with a peculiar expression.

"Private Fusillade!"

She jumped, and she knew he wanted her when he pointed to the ground that lay in front of him. Esther jogged over to the tall fierce man and then clapped to attention.

"Yes, sir?" She held her tongue close to the roof of her mouth, careful to not let her voice waver.

"Change into your PT gear, _woman_. You will be running Currahee." Esther was shocked inside-she had never been addressed solely by her gender. Regardless, she saluted, he ignored her gesture and pointed his long finger towards the longer yet building that all the men had just gone into.

Knowing Sobel was closely watching her from behind; she forced her legs to carry her weight, which suddenly seemed to double. The instant her small figure made its great debut, two short men stopped their arguing, and others stopped their complaining about Sobel. Everybody's eyes were fixed solely on _her._ Not knowing how to act, she forced her most brilliant smile, and a short puppet-like man came up to her.

"Hey, cowgirl. We've been waitin' for you. There's your cot, ya better hurry up and change," he said pointing to a bed, with a sly look on his face.

"Well, shit," rolled out of her bewildered mouth. A loud roar of laughter rang throughout the small room. Esther's faced flushed a deep blood red, as she began to unzip her dress. She tossed her pad of paper with only tallies of the amount of different wildlife she had seen on the trip on the front page on the cot, along with the nub of a pencil. She reluctantly pulled off her dress and rapidly pulled on the white tee and navy shorts. And they stood up to their name, as they were the shortest article of clothing she had ever dared to wear. As she stood up from her cot, the guys tried to smile through their obvious anguish at having to run, and some managed to shake her hand as they too left. They weren't the careful and dainty handshakes she had received during greetings at church, but firm and shockingly strong.

A Private White and a man named Lipton were left, talking. Esther knew their names from listening to how they were addressed in the conversation, or rather, the argument. He stopped his apparent begging with White, and turned to gesture at her head. "You might, uh, wanna put your hair up. You're gonna get real sweaty, real fast."

He must have seen her begin combing it with her fingers as she brought it over her shoulder. Realizing somebody was in a way giving her an order, Esther nodded and presented a timid, "Yes, sir." Esther thought of how her mother, who was hundreds of miles away, threatened that they would cut her hair off.

Lipton jogged out the door, an uncertain look on his face. When he was gone, she hurriedly twisted the frazzled braid up into a messy knot, exposing the already beading sweat on her neck. Trying to make a friend, she asked White, "Coming too?"

Without a response, he starred intently at the floorboards, and Esther was confused as to why he had refused Lipton's orders. She then made her way to the rest of the men. They were knocking the sideways caps off of other uniformed men in a different company. Why was Easy the only company in PT gear while the other men in the camp were dressed in pressed dress clothes?

As they neared a towering mountain, all Esther could think about was her high school weight lifting class morning run.

**So, there's that! I'm spending the week with my aunt and uncle, so I may not update. I'll be bringing my laptop though so if I have time, I will try to write! Thanks for reading, it means the world! :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry for slacking! I've just been very busy with traveling and the county fair. Things have settled down now, but only two weeks left until I start my Junior year of High School (ugh). Funny, I started the original story the summer before Freshman year. I was terrified. **

**I hope you enjoy!**

**~Chapter 3: Lather~**

The mountain lived up to the guttural sounds of disgust the men gave it in the barracks before they left. With every heavy step Esther mustered she looked over to find the man next to her rolling his eyes in disgust. Esther had no motivation to run, no intentions but to not pass out. She hadn't decided which was worse- the amount of sweat that was pouring down her back and into the waistband of her navy shorts, or the constant yelling show Sobel put on for the men.

He yelled cult like sayings, with answers given that Esther had to ponder if they were English. To avoid personal humiliation from Sobel, Esther would move her mouth as if she was answering. "And what company is this?" He barked like an aggravated dog.

"Easy Company!" She tried to yell, but it came out as a dry sputter. Regardless, her voice was much higher than the men that surrounded her in shared suffering.

A dark haired men with classically blue grey eyes looked under his arm to her as he wiped his brow with his wrist. He gave her a sympathetic smile, with a touch of encouragement in angle of his eyebrows. She silently hoped that her face wasn't too flushed from running, but then realized at this point that her appearance was a lost cause.

Though she was panting and feeling light headed, she was relatively impressed with that fact that she hadn't keeled over yet. So much was happening at once and there was so much to think and wonder about. The distractions were helping keep her heart at a working speed.

A man in front of her gave a faulty step with sheer exhaustion and twisted his ankle. Sobel snarled at anybody that tried to help him, and a sour taste flooded her mouth. Who was the kind of man that would prohibit others from helping an injured man and what was he doing as an officer?

The path narrowed and the formation of men fell apart and drew into a long line of heavy footed troopers. Esther found herself with a stranger in front of her, and a stranger behind her. All she recognized was Sobel galloping without falter ahead of the men. It was as if his anger fueled his legs and propelled him forward like a plane of fury.

Running hard with her arms pumping, she met her other officer Winters by a stone with engravings in the granite. The men just ahead of her slapped their hands against the top and all seemed to give a sigh of relief. She copied their gesture and at once knew the reasoning for their sighs. Once she had reached the top of the mountain, Esther let the tension in her back relax and let gravity carry her weight. She gratefully welcomed the breeze against her over heated face and the wind drowned out the sounds of her heart thumping against her ear drums. Though her ankles were not pressed back against the sharp incline of the mountains, she found that the red clay of this Georgia mountain was difficult to tread at this greater speed.

The others seemed relieved as well as a breeze caused by their momentum hit their faces. Before the path began to swell, Esther looked over and discovered the enormity of Camp Toccoa from an above view. Rows upon rows of uniform barracks were perched on the now familiar red soil. Just to the north of the center of the camp was the circle where the stars and stripes were wrapped tiredly against the hot metal of the pole where her father dropped her off into her fate. Tears began to well in her eyes, partly from exhaustion but mostly from sorrow. Her father was perhaps homeward bound, or perhaps he halted at a bar on the side of the highway for a beer to two… or ten. Nobody really paid any mind to her father's alcohol tooth, as long as he was sober enough to sit up straight in a pew on Sunday morning.

**B.o.B.**

That night, everybody introduced themselves as she rubbed the sore red rings that were etched into her ankles by the stiff cork boots. The wisps of hair that surrounded her face were stiff with dried sweat. Malarkey stuck out his hand first on his way to the shower in the back of the barrack. She felt her face burn as she looked around from the sores on her feet to find a room of men with nothing but their thin boxers on. Guarnere was next; he was clearly towards the top of the established pecking order, due to his rank of sergeant and his demeanor.

While she was back home waiting to become of age to be emerged into this rigorous training, it was apparent that the men had already established a pecking order amongst themselves. She was fully aware that she was at the very, very bottom, possibly even under Private White who was mysteriously nowhere to be found.

"You got a nice handshake, ma'am. We'll keep you around for now."

Esther nodded with a small smile and wanted to mention that her father had taught her that firm handshake, but figured her superior in rank couldn't give a damn about her father.

A towering man with a gentle face that did not match his massive body walked to the back of the barrack and introduced himself on the way. His bare chest was massive, and the stub of a thick cigar hung loosely in the corners of his lips. Denver Randleman's hand seemed to devour hers, and it disappeared into his goliath palm. Esther imagined with a loose thought that he was so tough he could keep that cigar lit while he was showering.

In the distance a puppet like man named Luz could be heard cracking a joke about Sobel, with one of his spot on impressions. Muck and Penkala were chorusing their laughter for him, folding tomorrow's uniform and placing it in their footlockers. It seemed as though Muck, Penkala and Malarkey were the three grand brothers that came from separate mothers. They always carried the same handsome, but sly expression between drags from their Lucky Strikes. Esther made the observation that if you didn't smoke in Easy Compay, you were square.

Carwood Lipton was the only one Esther hadn't seen with a white cancer stick between his lips.

The line into the shower was quick moving. It seemed as though they could barely get a bar of soap across their body before the next man would yell at them for hogging the hot water. Just the thought of water on her sticky skin sounded like paradise, but she didn't want to cross the drawn lines of the pecking order to get into the line.

In the meantime she quietly folded her large uniforms and waited for whoever wanted to meet her to come. Until somebody came, Esther listened to all the conversations buzzing around her to keep note of the multiple personalities in the room. Perconte and Luz were joking friends, and their jokes bantered off one another until the joke had perished. Hoobler, with his evidently larger ears mostly kept to himself, but occasionally put in his word about Sobel. The rest of the men would respond to him with light smiles, but he was towards the bottom of the pecking order. Hoobler was quite adorable in a childish way, and his innocent demeanor made Esther want to spark a conversation with him.

Shifty made his way to the shower but stopped to offer his hand. "Evening ma'am," he had a think accent straight from the Carolina's. "Pleasure to have you with us in the company."

"Thank you," Esther said, raising her cheeks into a pleasant smile. "May I take a shower or is there a waiting list?"

"Oh, of course! Just step into line. It might be a little quick for you, ma'am."

"That's alright, I'm just swimming in this humidity. I thought Nebraska was humid."

Shifty and Esther then continued to make small talk, and the men's bare chests no longer distracted her, but her bare legs drew some lingering glances. Shifty politely walked her through the morning process so she would be prepared in the morning. Esther crossed her legs over one other, and drew the towel closer to her neck. This made the length of her bare legs longer, and she desperately wished the towel was longer.

Finally Shifty was out of the shower and it was Esther's turn. The water was tepid, but it managed to cut through the dried sweat that coated her skin. She quickly ran the soap around her body, but before she could rinse, Lieutenant Sobel's familiar bark startled her. She pressed her eyelids together tighter to avoid the sliding suds from stinging her eyes.

"Attention, troopers!" He yelled, and she rapidly cranked down the stream of water into silence. Suds still lined her body as she wrapped a towel damp with the humidity around her midsection. Esther was caught between pretending to not exist, and coming to attention like she had been ordered. She toyed with both ideas, and with a hard swallow Esther stepped out of the small showering room and into the long barrack.

"Private Fusillade, who said you could shower in these barracks?"

Shifty's name tried to tug out of her mouth, but she knew it would be pointless to throw him under the bus… she was already the one in trouble.

Sobel's furious voice continued to cut at her throat, "Your shower is over, Private. Right now. From this point on you will shower behind the barrack at night, away from the men."

Esther forced her eyes open to look in Sobel's direction. The remaining lather that begged to be rinsed off ran into her eyes, sending a stinging pain around her eyes. "Yes, sir."

"Light's out, troopers. We're running Currahee at 0500."

Esther glanced up quickly enough to see the men's Adam's apples bob in their throats at the idea of running that damn hill again. The pounding of Sobel's boots against the fresh pine floorboards broke the hanging silence.

The door slammed behind him, and Bill Guarnere's accent filtrated through the air, "What a fucking asshole. I'm real sorry about that, girl."

Shifty stepped forward, wringing a hand towel nervously in his hands, "I'm sorry, Essie. I didn't know you weren't allowed to shower in here." He gave her a guilty glace, handing her a towel, "Here, you're crying."

Embarrassed and confused by what Shifty had just called her, she quickly took the towel and rubbed her burning eyes. "I'm not crying, this damn soap is in my eyes. I'm not crying, I swear." She wiped her hands on the towel in defense before tossing it carelessly in the shared hamper. Esther didn't want the men to think she was crying, even though she was wallowing in embarrassment.

The shower head tauntingly dripped in the back room as the men silently began to fall asleep. Once the lights were flipped off, she pulled on her clean pair of navy shorts and a plain white PT shirt.

Now lying restlessly in her cot, Esther began to wish she had passed the shower all together. The soap suds in her hair began to crisp over and make her scalp itch. Sweat beading in the nape of her neck from pure frustration, she attempted to plait the knotted mess but the endeavor resulted with tears in her eyes.

Sobel was intentionally making her experience as difficult as possible, she was having a hard time figuring out the men, she was exhausted from Currahee and she was desperately homesick. She wished Dixie was sitting on the small of her back, gently picking at the tangles with a small toothed comb.

Esther sat up and swung her aching legs over the side of the cot, unable to shake the sharp ping of homesickness in her chest. As she leaned against the pine wall of the barrack, she looked out the small square window that had just lost its fog from the steam of the showers. Esther let out a sigh, which caused her neighbor to stir. She held her breath hoping he would drift off again.

Talbert's cot was to the right of hers. He was a quiet man, only lifted the conversation when it began to fall. Esther had noticed this when she watched the men, but had not formally met him yet. The moonlight reminded her that he was the man that suffered up Currahee beside her, with his striking grey eyes. Talbert propped himself up on his elbow and made a straight black eyebrow into an arch. "Homesick?" he asked plainly.

Esther nodded and ran her nails across her clammy, soap covered skin.

"The rest of the men will tell you they aren't homesick, but I'll be the first to tell you I miss Kokomo, Indiana. Time can't make you forget where you came from." He gave a small grin, "Where are you from?"

"Grand Island, Nebraska. It's too small for even a dot on the map."

His grin widened and in turn Esther's face lifted from its concrete frown. "You better try to get some rest, miss."

Esther nodded and settled into her cot as he did without any words. She leaned over to look at the row of men across the aisle. In the silence she could hear each breathing pattern, see every chest rise and fall. None of the men snored, except for a guy named Cobb that nobody seemed too fond of.

Many things about this place reminded her of home, but it was the opposite of a home. It lacked love, but now she felt a hint of compassion in the air. Bull's smoldering cigar in his makeshift ash tray reminded her of her father, and the habit he never could kick. As she watched the men sleep, her still burning eyes finally begged for closure.

**Reviews make me so happy I dance. No joke. **


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